


Playing Pretend

by crystalequinox



Series: Nothing is Whole, Nothing is Broken [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Zemyx - Freeform, dexion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalequinox/pseuds/crystalequinox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because how could he face the horrible reminder of how the Organization had changed who he was?  Distorted his beliefs, his goals.  And made him into something nasty and loathsome.  And here was the one person he had probably hurt the most, not accidentally, but with precision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reset

**Author's Note:**

> Since the name of Demyx's somebody has yet to be confirmed I'll be using "Myde" for this fic. I want to keep the events as close to canon as possible, but I've lengthened the duration of time between the Organization being full and when the events of Castle Oblivion began. 
> 
> While this fic focuses on Zexion and Demyx, it will coincide with two other fics I'm working on that focus on AkuRoku and SoRiku. 
> 
> I plan to update about every 1 to 2 weeks. Rated mature for later chapters. Reviews are VERY appreciated! 
> 
> And a BIG THANK YOU to my beta readers oceanfae and prettyprotagswag!!!!

“Get the hell away from me!”  Ienzo yelled, chunking an especially large volume of the Encyclopedia of Hearts (written by Ansem himself) at Lea’s head. Lea dodged the tome, plastering himself to the side of the doorway, narrowly missing what would have been a knock out hit as it hurled through the space that had previously occupied his face, though another one hit him in the shoulder causing him to quickly backtrack into soft cream tones of the hallway.

“What the fuck Ienzo!”  Lea called from the doorway as the scholar hefted another volume up in preparation.

“I finally recalled _who it was that killed me!_ ”

 A flat _oh_ came from the hallway. 

“I was wondering when that would come back to you.” Not all the memories returned at once 

Ienzo fumed, slamming the book down on the circular desk, rattling the vials and flasks there that emitted a soft blue glow. He was not usually prone to violent outbursts and so Ienzo was half angry with himself for making such a mess of the study he had finally brought to rights after regaining his whole form and finding the Radiant Garden castle in such utter distress and disarray. Being a protégé of Ansem, he had taken it upon himself to occupy the room, as Even preferred to work in the lab, and Dilan and Aeleus were helping with the heavy repair and maintenance. Although in the beginning there had been quite a hassle dealing with the Restoration Committee over rights to the castle and its facilities.  Most of the members had been too young during the golden age of Radiant Garden and had little or no memory of the original inhabitants of the castle.

Tentatively, Lea stuck his head out again.

“Honestly you should be thanking me. If not for my…actions at Castle Oblivion you might still be Zexion.”  He ducked back into the hall as another book came flying his way.

“Okay okay!  I’ll make it up to you!  Got it memorized? I’ve got a lead on it anyway…”

Ienzo paused in his outburst, wondering what in the worlds could Lea possibly have that would give Ienzo reason to forgive him. He had been just as loyal to the Organization as Axel during the events of Castle Oblivion, (more so, in fact, as he was one of the founding members) only to discover later that Axel himself had turned away in the end.  Ienzo waited for the aggravating redhead to reappear but he never did, instead there was the fading sound of footsteps from beyond the doorway that soon settled into silence.

Lea was correct though, in part. Only once his nobody form had been destroyed could he return in completion.  In addition, the question still existed weather the act of destroying a Nobody could be qualified as murder.  And if it hadn’t been Axel  surely he would have perished by Sora’s hand with the rest of Organization XIII.

In addition, at that time he was Axel, not Lea. As a Nobody, Zexion had been aware of the familial relationship between Axel and Saix, and so should have been more careful in his dealings with Axel and taken appropriate measures in the event of betrayal.  The individual who was really deserving of such wrath was Saix.

Ienzo touched his hand to his chest in thought. Toiling over the completion of Kingdom Hearts had become less about regaining his heart and more true to the original intent of his delve into the study of hearts and nature of light and dark, and so he had attempted to cast his desires away, not recognizing, or perhaps denying what they were.

His desire.  If that’s what he could now call the relationship.    

He would apologize to Lea later, or at the very least settle a sort of understanding on the vague definition of Nobody murder.

With a sigh and an exasperated look around the disaster he had created, Ienzo set to work returning the books to their proper places.

 

***

 

It was a little over week later when Aeleus found Ienzo in the library, informing him that Lea had returned to Radiant Garden and was awaiting the young man in the study.

After thanking Aeleus for the message, Ienzo reluctantly readied himself for the encounter, taking with him the report he had been reviewing from Evan’s currently developing data collection on the master computer pertaining to ‘The Door to Light’ and was reading it as he walked into the study.

“Make this quick Lea, I must return to-“ but as he looked up from the clipboard the sentence died in his throat and against his will, a flush filled his cheeks, mouth still open slightly as he found a blonde man with a messy mullet and a sloppy smile, bright sea green eyes gleaming happily as he sat on top of the desk.  Careless tears in his jeans and a well-worn t-shirt inscribed with some sort of insignia, which he could only surmise was a band symbol. 

 The threat of a smile tugged at the edges of Ienzo’s lips but as he realized the faces of the two men in the room were illuminated with joyful expectancy, so he utilized the long practiced art of smoothing over his features into a sleight frown of contempt.

“Take him back.” 

The two gaped at him, completely thrown by his reaction.

“Zex- er…Ienzo isn’t it?  Lea said that was your name now. I came to-!” the blonde man began but Zexion looked back down at his clipboard, glad to have an excuse to avoid eye contact, “Please remove your rear from my desk before I call in Aeleus to remove it for you.”

Lea put his hands on his hips and looked at the stunned blond man and then at Ienzo and then at the floor, shaking his head.

Sliding off the desk and slinging across his back the guitar case that had been leaning against the table, the familiar stranger approached Ienzo.

“Hey I thought we could uh, catch up or something? I haven’t seen you since…well I’ve never seen _you_ before, not the way you are now, you as Ienzo I mean, but the old you, since before you…” He paused and itched the bridge of his nose with a curled finger looking away from the small scholar and then returned his gaze.  “I just wanted to see you again.”

Ienzo finally gathered the courage to lift his eyes from the papers. 

“Since I was betrayed and murdered.”

Of course he was deflecting the conversation. For now he would leave be explaining the foggy specifics.  He threw a cold look in Lea’s direction, who smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head before suddenly finding a diagram on the wall of avid interest.

 “Now if the both of you will take your leave, I _do_ have work that needs attending to.” He turned with the intention of scurrying off to the library, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him dead.

He didn’t shrug it off.  Though he should have.  Because he didn’t want him here, not now when he had a heart again, when he was sure of the thing beating in his chest.  This was something he was too perplexed by to delve into now, the absurdity of hearts. Ienzo was sure he’d never see the other man again, and had depended on it.  It wasn’t as though he hadn’t calculated the possibility, unlikely as it was, he had just hoped it would never happen. 

Because how could he face the horrible reminder of how the Organization had changed who he was?  Distorted his beliefs, his goals.  And made him into something nasty and loathsome.  And here was the one person he had probably hurt the most, not accidentally, but with precision.

What frightened him the most though, was that he was no longer sure how much of Zexion had been Ienzo.  If, as a Nobody he had possessed a heart after all, then there was no one to blame for it but himself as he was now. 

Ienzo clutched the clipboard to his chest, as if to push his beating heart into subjugation.  “Just go away, Demyx.  Your presence is unnecessary here. ”

He turned around to find a hand extended to him with a smile and beautiful eyes he did not deserve, eyes full of forgiveness, “It’s Myde now. Nice to meetcha.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to my beta readers oceanfae and prettyprotagswag!
> 
> Reviews are most welcome and appreciated! (No seriously it helps a ton with my writing morale.)

Empty and quiet.  

This was a strangely rare occasion considering the enormity of the castle.  Someone was always shuffling or skulking about in the lounge or the hallways nearby. At this hour of the night, although night was a constant in the Dark City, everyone had cleared out. 

His value as a researcher to the Organization meant he was usually only given low brunt missions, such as recon or early training for fresh recruits, which were few and far in between. Due to this he was usually granted the opportunity to absorb information late into the night.

Due to Vexen, he had vacated his usual place of solitude and quiet: the library.  Whether it was incidental or otherwise, Vexen’s presence was ever glued to Zexion’s and at times, like tonight, it became exhausting.  The academic now often complained about his detonating status within the organization as it gained new members, all unaware of his brilliance and ignorant to his status.

Depositing his selection of reading material on the coffee table Zexion settled into one of the large armchairs near the windowed side of the room.  Since none of the other members were around he pulled his legs across one arm with his back against the other, fitting comfortably into the space between with a tome open against his thighs.

“Oh!  Uh, hey! I didn’t think anyone was in here.”

With an internal sigh Zexion’s gaze flickered up from his book, mid paragraph, to find one of the newest members, the Organization’s number one slacker, walking towards him. 

“Number Nine.” He greeted the man, “I had the same notion.  It was my desire to keep it that way.” 

Zexion said, now looking him full in the face with as much passive aggressive contempt as he could muster in his current reading position, which he was fully aware wasn’t the least bit threatening.

Instead of being insulted by Zexion’s insinuation that he wanted to be alone, Demyx pulled out a big sloppy grin.

“Y’know you look cute all squished up like that.”

Zexion chose to ignore that comment.

“What business do you have in here so late at night?” He asked even though he really had no authority over Demyx’s access to the lounge.  It’s not as though this was a restricted area.

“Just wanted to get some practice in.” Demyx answered with a small shrug.

“And why were you unable to do that in your room?”

He wasn’t especially especially close to anyone in the Organization, despite the ties from his past life, but Demyx didn’t make the list of company he would prefer to keep.  Considering he was noisy and his work ethic was abominable. It had taken his one and only mission with the ninth member to come to the conclusion. 

Demyx grimaced, “Axel’s room is next to mine.”

Zexion merely raised his eyebrows expectantlly, waiting for the unpleasant explanation that would surely follow, in light of how chatty the bond man was.

“He kicked my door open while I was playing and said he would crisp my ass if I kept playing late at night.” Demyx rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Kind of an overreaction if you ask me, but man does Axel like his” at this he raised his hands to make air quotes, “sleep.”

Zexion’s lip twitched in a ghost of a smirk but he quickly regained a neutral expression, hoping that Demyx hadn’t caught it.

Which he did not.  Because he was still rambling. 

“So I guess it makes sense but it’s not like I bitch at him when he’s banging that scary scar faced guy.” He made an ‘X’ motion with his finger between his eyes to indicate which scar faced guy, as there were multiple.

Zexion’s eyes widened, surprised. Well that was new information. Something he would rather not have had a mental image of, but possibly something he could use at a later time.

Demyx chuckled, “Cuz man he’s nasty.”

Zexion sighed, externally this time to hide the beginnings of a smile on his lips, “I suppose if you play quietly you can stay.”

Grinning, Demyx held out an arm to summon his sitar before plopping down on the couch opposite of Zexion.

“Thanks, I’ll keep the tunes chill.”

Shaking his head at the absurd colloquialisms, Zexion returned his attention to the book awaiting his attention, hoping he wouldn’t regret the decision of allowing Demyx to remain within earshot.   

Keeping to his word, a soft thrumming began to flit through the room, not too loud or too fast to be a distraction. At first it was just a randomization of notes but after a few chapters, Zexion noticed there was a definite melody drifting around.

It wasn’t bad. 

In fact, it reminded him of when he used to stay up late listening to classical records on the phonograph, turned low so as to not disturb anyone, while reading in the parlor of the Radiant Garden castle.

He had believed Demyx to only be capable of gratuitous noise with his instrument, but what he was playing now was…relaxing.

 

***

 

Covering his mouth with the knuckles of his gloved hand, Zexion came to the end of the last page of this third book, and decided it was past time he should be getting to bed.  It was well into the early hours of the morning.  He stood and stretched.  Eyes shut, he was aware of the sudden lack of music, though not of Demyx’s own eyes following the bends of his figure.  

Demyx had looked away, pretending to tune his sitar when Zexion let his gaze slide over to the musician.

“I’m off to bed then.  You should be as well if you don’t want to oversleep for your mission tomorrow.  If I recall it’s a rather early one.”  Zexion always acquired a copy of the mission schedule from Saix the day before missions were assigned.

Sticking his tongue out at Zexion (a terribly childish act) Demyx let his sitar dissipate and stood, “Spoil sport.”

Without replying, Zexion began gathering his books from the table, he had brought more than time had allowed to read. A constant dilemma of his.

“Um,” Demyx scratched his face unconsciously, possibly, Zexion observed, a nervous habit from when he had a heart. “You need help with those?” 

Zexion paused considering, and then, slowly he inclined his head in acceptance of the offer.  Another surprise, via Demyx.  Number Nine’s willingness to assist in a task was an irregular, of not rare, occurrence.

 

***

 

It seemed Vexen had long since cleared out of the library by the time the unlikely pair arrived. 

“You can set them on the desk, I’ll put them in order tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The walk to the library had been oddly quiet, another quality in Demyx that was alternative to his usual obnoxious demeanor.

“Oddly uncharacteristic of you.” Zexion commented as they withdrew from the library. 

Demyx put his hands out, palms up, questioningly, “What is?” He was, as Zexion had noticed, quite expressive in his use of body language.

“Your display of helpfulness.”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“From all the data compiled on you thus far from your time in the Organization it’s obvious that you’re a slacker, underachiever, and procrastinator.  You have a low mission success rate, a minimum mission gage completion, a high tardy rate, and you often are off topic at meetings and complain about matters of trivial consequence.” Zexion deadpanned.

The other nodded, chin resting against his fist, the other arm folded under his elbow as he listened, then he pointed at Zexion, “But you still like me, right?”

“ _What?_ ” Zexion’s composed shattered as he stared at the musician, “That’s absurd, of course not!”

“Why?”

Obviously Demyx was damaged in the head as well as lazy.

“We don’t have hearts, you imbecile.”

Demyx grinned, as if he knew something Zexion did not. This was of course highly unlikely, nearly impossible unless it perhaps related to musical composition or instrument usage, which Zexion had at least a basic grasp on.  “But you would like me if we did have hearts, right?”

Zexion scowled, mouth hard pressed into a line as he attempted to decipher what exactly the origin of the mental damage was and if it was a permanent infliction or if it could be alleviated.

Demyx looked at him expectantly.

Apparently it hadn’t been a rhetorical question.  

“I’m not sure.  Maybe? The probability is low, I would have spend some time analyzing the factors.”  His answer should have been no, but for some ludicrous reason this was spilling out of his mouth instead. 

“Okay, cool.  Give me a heads up when you figure it out.” 

He refused to spend another brain cell more on the matter.

“I…alright.”  He nodded, “Goodnight then.” 

“Goodnight!”  Demyx waved and began to walk off to his area of the housing sector, but then he turned.

“Oh wait!” 

And he was walking up quickly, suddenly too close.

“I’m a good kisser, factor that.”

Abruptly, he bent down to Zexion and pressed a kiss against his cheek, winked, and then he was running off again.

Zexion pressed light fingertips to his cheek where Demyx’s lips had been, staring as if dazed at the darkened passage the man had disappeared into.

If he hadn’t known better he would have thought his heart had skipped a beat when Demyx kissed him.

He knew better though. 

Nobodies didn’t have hearts.

Right?

 


	3. Warning Signs

“Excuse me?”

The mission schedule was rarely deviated from.

“It can’t be helped, the Superior had need of Number Two. You were the only one available for the mission opening.”

He would not look at the idiotic grin plastered across the face of his current teammate.  No, he would nod, begrudgingly at the slashed face of solemnity with a slight sneer on the corner of his lip and the edge of his brow. 

“Hey it’s no big deal, I mean Xiggy is cool, but y’know I can flow with it.”

Xiggy?  Zexion hoped he hadn’t adopted abbreviated nicknames for all of the Organization members. 

Saix looked between them, “Right. It will be a simple recon mission, inspect the Twilight Town tunnel network.  The location needs to be scouted and all findings reported back promptly.”

***

 

Stepping out of the portal, Zexion surveyed the area for residents, seeing none, he signaled for Demyx to follow and the portal closed behind the two of them. 

“Whew I was worried we were gonna get a tough one, but sight seeing I can do.” 

Zexion was none too pleased with the intolerable work ethic of his fellow organization member and turned on him, “The difficulty of the mission is not in direct correlation to its seriousness.”

Demyx squinted, as if he were trying to take a closer look at the big words that bubbled up from Zexion’s mouth, “Huh?”

“In layman terms, even if a mission is easy, it is still important.” 

“Oh.  Why didn’t you just say that the first time?”

Sighing, Zexion began to make his way towards the tunnel opening in the back alley, shadowed by red brick walls and piping. He checked the map location to confirm this was the entrance they were to take; he noted the ‘UNDER CONSTRUCTION’ and ‘NO TRESSPASSING’ signs posted there. 

He paused just outside the ramp of the tunnel entrance, “Once you acquire a certain level of vocabulary, you tend to make use of it.”

“You know who has a colorful vocabulary?” Demyx asked as they proceeded intot he tunnel.

He did not deign to answer.  Already knowing those within the Organization’s ranks who were counted among users of crass terminology.  Though he stifled the quirk at the corner of his mouth where a chuckle threatened to manifest at Demyx’s display of enthusiasm.

“Axel!  Man when he’s pissed he’s got a mouth on him.  And Xigbar too.  I saw him get hit by a heartless once on a mission, he was between warps when it nicked him, and he said a whole string of stuff I’ve never even heard before. Like he’s so good I didn’t think he could even get hit, y’know?  How did he get that scar anyway?  And lose like his whole eye?  I mean he pulls off a the whole sexy pirate thing, but it looks like it was something gnarly that got-.”

Zexion threw him an incredulous look, “You actually believe Xigbar is attractive?”

Demyx shrugged, “In a rugged, dangerous kinda way, yeah.  He’s funny too.”

Withholding the sudden need to retch, Zexion pulled out the map again to check their progress.

The head sized blob of shadow on the paper was the preemptive indicator of warm breath tickling the back of his neck and sending a thrilling sensation down his shoulders and down further to his stomach as Demyx leaned over him from behind to glean a peak at the map, “What’s so important about this spot?” 

Zexion shuffled out from behind Demyx to face him, “It-“ his voice came out a bit husky and he cleared his throat, “It connects to each sector of the town and so can be utilized to bypass routes usually populated by citizens.”

“Sooo we just look around these tunnels?” 

“That’s the gist of recon, yes.”

“Man I was hoping to get a look at the town, oh well.”

No longer could he resist an eye roll or a humored smirk.

Demyx tilted his head at the sight, “You look cuter when you smile.”

Immediately he recomposed a stern expression, “P-please refrain from inappropriate comments on a mission!”

Why did Demyx jostle him so?

“How do you see with half your face covered?” Demyx ignored the warning and reached out to run his fingers through Zexion’s excessive bangs, which the scholar retreated from.

“Before becoming a Nobody my vision suffered from astigmatism in my right eye.  The condition doesn’t affect this form, but I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

“Huh, that explains a lot.”

In an attempt to avoid further questions, Zexion continued on ahead, Demyx following, but just as they turned the corner to the third sector, Heartless began to materialize. 

Zexion withdrew a few cautious steps, summoning his Lexicon as the dark pools surrendered twitching shadows into the tunnel before them, yellow globes bobbling.

Glancing to his side, expecting to find Demyx at the ready, he instead witnessed his mission partner eyes widening, hands in front of him face a grimace of fear. 

“Demyx, they’re coming!” 

“I know, I know!”

Hurriedly, he reached a hand out and with a spray of bubbles his sitar materialized; Zexion returned his attention to the approaching heartless in time to quickly backtrack from a near blow. 

***

 

When the last of the gaggle was extinguished, Zexion let out a breath of exhaustion and let his tense muscles relax once all was clear.

Fighting was far from his forté.

“What was _that_ about?” Zexion demanded, rounding on his partner who shrugged sheepishly in reply.

“I don’t uh…I don’t like fighting.”

Zexion clenched his fists, tight lipped.

“Well I don’t like it either but if the mission requires it than it can’t be helped!”

A kindling in the sea, Demyx’s eyes crashed from surprise to unearthed glee, “You don’t _like_ it?”

And then, the chagrin realization of what had come out of his mouth.  He couldn’t ‘like’ anything.  Nobodies didn’t have the heart to like or dislike.  

With a roll of his eyes, arms crossed, Zexion huffed, “A trick of the memory.”

But Demyx refused to let go of the infernal grin on his face.

Worse, he was taking a few steps closer, “So did you decide if you liked m-“

An approaching chatter drifted through the tunnels, a shout, laughter, and then running feat. 

Zexion grabbed Demyx’s arm and pulled him round to a darkened bend and into a corner between the third sector path and an upward ramp, pushing him against the wall and covering his mouth with a hand while he turned his head over a shoulder towards the noise, pressing them both into the shadow.

“Come on slow pokes!”

“Hayner, what if we get in trouble for being down here? It’s still under construction.”

“But we’re so far in already!”

Feeling an arm around his waist, Zexion looked away from the direction of the babbling teenagers in the tunnel beyond and up to the surprisingly sly gleam in Demyx’s now darkened eyes as the musician pulled him closer, hips to hips.  A none too unpleasant dropping sensation in his stomach, the air seemed to grow thicker as he let his hand slide down from Demyx’s mouth, fingers gliding over lips to neck to collar bone and grasped the front of his coat.

“Yeah maybe the whole ghost search should wait? It’s kinda creepy down here when the all the lights aren’t working.” 

“Man you guys are being lame!” A melodramatically loud sigh of exasperation.  “Ok let’s go. But if Seifer’s gang gets the low down before us you guys owe me ice cream for a week!” 

Once the sounds of good natured laughter and words that Zexion could no longer pay attention to faded off, the blond man leaned down so that his mouth was to Zexion’s ear, “So d’you like me?”

The press of Demyx’s thigh to his groin wasn’t exactly disagreeable, nor was the way his words tickled Zexion’s ear and sent a buzz down his limbs. Demyx was far from unattractive, and those deep-sea treasure eyes he found himself peeking at far too often of late.

“Perhaps,” Zexion breathed, “I could pretend to.”

***

 

“Wait, have you done this before?”

Immediately, he tensed up, unprepared for the question at hand, woefully aware that his inexperience would likely be a laughable topic to Demyx, and if anything set him on edge it was being ridiculed by lack of knowledgeable on a subject.  Especially, experience wise it would have been expected that he’d performed coitus at some point by the time he’d lost his heart.  

If he properly recalled, involvement in his work had always seemed more interesting to him than swapping germs and rolling in sweaty sheets.  His work had always taken priority; it had been his life.  Ironically, it had ended his life.

“No.” the word terse and quiet, directed towards the wall instead of the grinning face no more than an arm’s length away and half on top of him. Surely his face felt warm due to increased body heat from the physical proximity.  A blush of embarrassment would be absurd for a Nobody.

“Ohhhh.” 

A languid motion and the slow buzz of his coat zipper filled the moonlit room and Zexion peeked out from his silver waterfall of hair to watch Demyx shrug a layer of black away to reveal smooth _toned_ biceps, triceps, pectorals, abdomen…

“Th-theoretically, of course I know how it goes.”

A warm film settled over his skin as he watched the progression of Demyx’s hand.  It drifted from his knee, up his thigh, his own coat bunching to his waist where Demyx paused, fingers testing out the curve of his hip.

Zexion took a sharp intake of breath as deft un-gloved fingers danced around his groin, surprised by his own surge of arousal as it pulsed, thick and heavy in his veins. 

“Yeah?  There are books about that?”

He nodded, for once unable to give an exasperated explanation that _of course there are books about that_ but instead he was bunching up gloved fingers into a fist of stupid mullet hair and sinking into another one of those kisses that he had, in fact concluded Demyx was exemplary at.  

The smell of Demyx was like salt tinged wind off the sea on a cool, cloudy afternoon, something fresh and foreign, something lulling. It was there, in the pull of his kisses, the way he lingered slightly, tongue on lips before delving back in, and Zexion found himself being drawn further in until he was astride the musician’s lap, hair pulling, breathy and shameless, gliding his own tongue over Demyx’s teeth as his coat was hurriedly pushed off his shoulders and tossed to a crumbled blob in the darkened room.

“Zex?”

In his state of foggy consciousness, Zexion was mildly aware that he should find the nickname offensive, but instead he allowed it, almost welcomed it, and took a shaky breath as he withdrew a few inches, a string of saliva at his lips that he wiped away with the leather of the gloves still encasing his hands to find Demyx smiling lazily at him, and then his hair being pushed from his face by sitar string calloused fingertips, and his cheeks cupped in palms as smooth and warm as pages of a well loved book.

“You’re gorgeous y’know.”

What had driven him to this tempestuous behavior? That kiss?  Those thrumming fingers?  On strings, those gentle melodies breaking up the once muffled night. He had begun to listen to them, in the lobby, in the hallways, the tune and pitch of Demyx’s voice. His insatiable curiosity. His careless laughter over some scandalous joke of Xigbar’s.  And he would turn away when the seafoam gaze landed on him as they passed in hallways, pretending he hadn’t looked at all.     

Even now he turned away, hiding something akin to embarrassment in Demyx’s palm, a shiver in his memories but he couldn’t place anything close to this.

“Don’t you ever shut up?”

Taking the attached wrist and encircling it with his own hand he kissed the skin there, open lips pressed to veins. He felt the blonde shudder and gasp at the small action, then fingers were on his lips and then past them and he was running his tongue between digits, a firm grip on his rear that made him groan.

When the sticky wet fingers withdrew from his lips Demyx replaced them with his own mouth.

He should have been disgusted by all the saliva, the syrupy nature of it, the protruding fingers that had no business fitting in such tight places, the deceivingly skilled tongue that made him quiver and writhe and become a carnal creature, desperate for more attention. He shouldn’t feel anything as he held to Demyx, sweaty and huffing, hands still gloved, only later to be tugged off so he could run clean hands over cheekbone and chin and lips to press his now uncensored smile to, pretending it was only to quiet Demyx’s soft snores.

Pretending there was no flutter in his chest at the easy smile that slid across kiss-swollen lips to inquire impossibility.

Demyx watched Zexion’s eyes widen and then dull over, watched him toss the covers off and slink away, slip back into his pants, pluck his coat and shoes from the ground, and hair flung back over his face, disappear into a whirl and coil of shadow tendrils, leaving the question hanging in the stifling air between them to settle on the cold, moon illuminated floor.

_Can you feel it?_


	4. Fiend or Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His grin turned from goofy amusement to hinted sensuality as he took a step too close, the distance between them shrinking and Ienzo couldn’t force himself to expand it, a hand coming back up to run through his bangs, pushing the hair from his face, exposing his right eye.
> 
> And his heart was thumping again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I now have this whole fic outlined and this semester is coming to an end, I'll be updating weekly or bi-weely again. 
> 
> Reviews are much appreciated!

Unhinging one hand from its hold on the clipboard, Ienzo hesitantly reached out to take Myde’s offered handshake, never one to be discourteous.

A quick shake and then he retracted his hand in a façade of adjusting his glasses. 

“He’s also staying the night in the castle.” Lea interjected.

“What?!” Ienzo nearly dropped his clipboard, “And who gave you the authority to-“

“The Restoration Committee.”

“Oh.” Ienzo cleared his throat, “Yes well then it can’t be helped.  You know where the guest rooms are, yes?” 

Lea nodded.

“Then please escort Myde there.”

“Can I have a tour?”  Myde asked, suddenly perky. 

Ienzo restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Lea is a resident of Radiant Garden and should have a basic knowledge of both the town and castle layout, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” 

“Can _you_ give me a tour?”  If anything could be called a ‘puppy-dog look’ there it was slapped on Myde’s face and he had mastered it.

“Maybe...later.  I should have some time for a quick excursion this Saturday.”

He had given in far too easily to the request and from the look Lea was giving him from behind Myde, they both knew it.

“Excursion?”

“He means free time.” Lea translated.

“Works for me!”

A sharp nod and Ienzo was turning on his heel to walk back towards the library, his pace quickening the farther he got, when he was sure they could no longer hear the clack of his footsteps against the tiled floors he set out at a run, needing to get as far away from Myde as quickly as his un-athletic body could take him, his heart thumping hard. 

The ridiculous little thing be damned.

But he couldn’t help but smile from the giddy beating of it.

 

***

 

A whistle of approval, “Man the fountains here are rad. Too bad I never got a mission assigned to this world.” 

They stood under the glowing vision of the three-tier fountain that lay between the castle and village, a sight that drew civilians and castle dwellers alike. 

“We were only recently able to restore them recently, the whole city has been under construction for nearly two years. Our time in the organization was post the destruction of this world.”

_The destruction I had a hand in causing._

 “It would have looked entirely different if you had come here on a mission. In the glory days of Radiant Garden the flowers were in bloom nearly year round, unfortunately it was polluted when the world was overtaken by heartless.  We had an excellent irrigation system in place that Ansem the Wise himself created the blue prints for at the young age of sixteen while he was still under the tutelage of…what?”

During the span of his explanation Ienzo’s attention had been on the gushing water, Myde’s had been on him. And turning his gaze to the musician, Ienzo realized he was stared at.

“You just sound really excited is all. You sound a lot happier now than you used to.”

Ienzo promptly looked back towards the sheets of water, pretending not to see Myde’s smile, hoping Myde didn’t notice his quickly reddening face, “The violet hue of the water is from a waterproof backlighting system in the basin and walls of the fountain.”

“Do you like the fountains?”

“I…used to come to this fountain often…”

_After my parents died._

_“_...to read.”

“Oh so you were _always_ a bookworm.” 

Myde reached a hand out and ruffled the top of Ienzo’s hair, to which the scholar quickly swatted his hand away, “You would learn a thing or two if you picked up a book.  And don’t touch my hair.” 

His grin turned from goofy amusement to hinted sensuality as he took a step too close, the distance between them shrinking and Ienzo couldn’t force himself to expand it, a hand coming back up to run through his bangs, pushing the hair from his face, exposing his right eye.

And his heart was thumping again.

_Already? How long have we been apart? It’s like nothing to him._  

“There you are.  Hiding under there.”

Was he going to? 

Myde was taking up his vision, filling it.

He brought his hands up to stop the approach, stop the kiss he wanted to melt into, stop the rise of his pulse.

“Demyx I-“

“Why if it ain’t Lil’ Ienzo!”

The two snapped apart as the third party strode towards them, apparently un-phased by their scene of intimacy, and tossed an arm around Ienzo’s shoulders.  To his displeasure. 

The intruding man stank of cigarette smoke, sweat, and motor oil.  In fact there was some still in his dirty blond hair and on his prickly unshaved face.

He gave Ienzo’s head a ruffle hard enough to give him a headache and then detaching his arm, took the cigarette from his lips and stuck out a hand to Myde, “Name’s Cid!”

Accepting the hand jubilantly, Myde let his arm be wobbled in an extreme handshake, “Howdy!  I’m Myde.” 

“This a friend of yours Ienzo?”

Ienzo opened his mouth to give a negative response, but delight on Myde’s face produced a different answer, “Yes.”

“Well good!” he turned back to Myde, “The kid never did have many friends back in the day.  Mostly kept to himself.” 

Myde’s curiosity was blatant, “You mean you knew him when he was a kid?”

Cid grinned, took a hit of his cigarette, blew the smoke nearly into Myde’s face and flicked the ash off, “Most everyone around here now a days were too young to remember the golden age of Radiant Garden, even the sewer smelled like flowers back then.  I used to be an engineer up at the castle in the before all that heartless business.  Back when Ienzo was a tot, his parents were scientists, good folks.  It’s a damn shame what happened to ‘em.”

“What uh, happened?” Myde looked between them.

Ienzo withheld his sigh, this wasn’t a subject he wanted to expound upon at the moment.  Or ever. 

“They died when I was very young.”

_I barely remember them._

Cid shook his head sadly, “It was a terrible explosion, took out a whole lab in the science wing.   The kid wouldn’t say a word for months after the accident.” 

_Because it was no accident._

Myde’s full sea green eyes wandered to the fountain, his previous exuberance in the subject turning dismal, “Must have been rough.”

There was real sympathy in his voice, in the downcast gaze, hands in his pockets.  Had he ever asked about Demyx’s life?  His past? His favorite color? No he hadn’t.  Demyx had asked about everything under the sun. 

“Old Ansem took him in, but he’d run off all the time and run into all kinds of trouble, drove the science team nuts. That ol’ coot Evan even became his official guardian.  Turned out he had a curiosity for just about everything, soaked up books and know-how like a sponge, and once he started yammering about somethin’ or another he nearly didn’t stop. He was the cutest toddler I ever did see, got pictures still, found ‘em just the other day.”

_I’m standing right here._

He was quickly sinking into an abyss of embarrassment at his past being explicitly laid out for Myde.

“Can I see them?”

“Sure!”

“No!”

The two blondes swiveled their heads in surprise at the shout that had come forth from a flustered Ienzo.

“I-I mean you’ll have to excuse us now Cid. We have some business to attend to in the village.”

He took Myde’s hand and led him away from the fountain, not looking back, and not thinking about how he liked Myde’s firm hand in his own.

 

***

 

“He’s insufferable.”  Ienzo set the files Evan had asked him to pull from the library next to the man at the lab table.  The scientist was currently pouring a thick blue liquid from a thin vial into a flask of a translucent green liquid, the combination emitted a light steam as the two liquids swirled around each other, but remained immiscible. 

“He asked for a tour, and I obliged out of courtesy. I took the time to plan an itinerary of tourist sights, but nearly half of it was ignored!”

He’d spent hours listing locations and researching new highlights of the city.

“Instead of the library Myde begged to stop at the ice cream shop!”

Myde’s favorite flavor of ice cream was mint chocolate chip.

“We went to the historic district but he paid no attention to the architecture, he played ball with some children in passing.”

Myde was good with kids.  When one of the younger children scraped her knee, and was near tears he used his scarf to stop the bleeding and made silly faces at her until she laughed.

“When we went to the market, he joined in a local group of musicians!”

He didn’t know the song but he could play every note on the borrowed acoustic guitar. 

“You didn’t have to indulge him you know.” Evan informed him as he took notes on his process, “Although it sounds as though you enjoyed yourself.”

Ienzo scoffed, adjusting his glasses, “We have no common ground.  He’s a nuisance, always has been.”

“Ienzo if you’re going to keep complaining, than make yourself useful and start transferring these reports to a digital format would you?”

_Says The World that Never Was and Radiant Garden’s infamous lamenter and nag._

Nevertheless, Ienzo abstained from further criticism of Myde.

 

***

Myde had been staring at him for six minutes laying on his gaze with thick inquisitiveness, and quickly looked away with feigned interest in his comic book every time Ienzo glanced up from the reference book he had been reading.  He had only allowed the musician into the study (Myde claiming he wanted to “hang out”) under the strict rule that he refrained from disturbing Ienzo’s work. Which meant silence, and the requirement was obviously causing him strain.  He could feel the building tension of a question radiating from Myde. 

Honestly there was no reason for him to be here, he offered no assistance to the physical restoration of the town or the castle, an unreliable member of the guard due to his pacifist nature, and he had never been the brightest member of the organization so putting him to work in the science division was out of the question.  He’d been here nearly a week and done nothing but laze about and strum on his instrument, unfortunately since the castle was under public domain now The Restoration Committee offered him refuge (how Lea had managed that he’d still yet to find an answer to) and Ienzo had little sway in the matter. 

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering, why do you wear glasses now? ‘Cuz you didn’t before. Y’know, as a Nobody.”

“I thought I explained this to you before.”

Myde’s look of blankness indicated his inability to recall the instance. 

If he admitted it to himself there was something he liked about providing answers to Myde’s questions.  He would never admit it though.   

Ienzo sighed, “I told you, I have a an astigmatism. The condition didn’t transfer to our Nobodies, but once I regained my original form it returned. Therefore: glasses." 

Myde scratched the bridge of his nose and studied the studded leather of the armchair he sat in, “Oh, yeah.”

Something in his tone altered from it’s usual carefree cadence and sunk into something more…melancholy?

“Is…is something wrong?”

Come to think of it, that conversation had happened right before they had…

A soft laugh bubbled up from Myde’s lips and the shadow of gloom cleared, like it hadn’t been there at all, and perhaps it hadn’t.

“Um yeah, what’s astigmatism?” 

 

***

 

“Myde?”  Ienzo whispered,  “Are you awake?”

The parlor was his late night reading haven. The armchair by the window overlooking the lamp lit garden was practically his designated damask patterned, indigo cotton upholstered comfort zone.  The site at which Myde had thought it a splendid idea to play his guitar at and subsequently fall asleep in. 

Once again Myde was attracted to his personal bubbles of sanctuary, infiltrating them. 

Two weeks and he was still here.  Ienzo had kept his nose in his work to avoid the man.  Dilan had finally forced Myde to run small errands to earn his keep. And here he was tuckered out in the parlor from just that little amount of effort, the lazy bum. 

The difference between Myde and Demyx was non-existent. Ienzo found the constancy somewhat comforting.

Nearing the musician, Ienzo watched him breathe evenly, for a few moments and reached out with the intent of waking him, but his hand hovered over Myde, conflicted.  Really, this was a horrible place to sleep and it would feel awkward to stay in the same room with the man unconscious.  Yet he had such a childish, serene look on his face when sleeping, one he had only glimpsed in moonlight, never in full illumination.

Gently, so gently, heart opposed to keeping a slow pace, he let his hand fall softly against Myde’s face, trace the line of his jaw up to his cheekbone and brush unruly dirty blonde strands from his forehead. He would catch a cold uncovered like this. The castle grew chilly at night. 

Ienzo leaned down closer.

_Pretend you never did it._

This close he could smell the scent of the sea still on Myde’s skin. 

_Pretend you never did any of it._

But was it still on his lips?

_Pretend you never felt anything back then._

This thrumming through his veins, this ache in his chest he knew though.  It had been real, and he’d squandered a miracle on petty motives. 

Every day Myde stayed here was another forceful, daily reminder of Zexion.

And Zexion hadn’t deserved Demyx. 

Removing the guitar from Myde’s lap, Ienzo set it by his chair and pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa to lay carefully over the man. 

At the door, Ienzo looked back at the sleeping musician and allowed himself a guilty smile at the sight before turning out the lights on his…friend. If that’s what they were to be now.

“Goodnight Myde.”


	5. Specialty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was pretty fucked up what Zexion was doing, he knew, trying to give him a hard on in a very public setting, where he was completely vulnerable to any ministrations from the schemer, but he didn’t necessarily want it to stop, no he wanted to press Zexion’s hips against his, illusion or not and stroke those places that made the schemer sound breathless, that made him sweat and burn like he did in the dark of a bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha so I suck at updates. I hope this chapter makes up for it though?

A dark shadow bled through the lighter, grey moonlight shadows that played across his closed eyelids as he nodded his head softly along to the beat emanating from his headphones. Peaking an eye open he found an annoyed, if not exasperated Zexion standing before him, arms crossed, blocking Demyx’s view of the constant night outside the window.

The corner of his mouth twitched back in a half sneer.

Demyx opened both eyes and smiled lazily, pushing the headphones down to rest against his collar, “Hey there, cutie.”

With a soft huff Zexion turned his head away, the jagged waterfall of his slate blue hair concealing his face.

“You’ll be late for the meeting if you don’t hurry.” 

Demyx jumped up from the chair, nearly bowling Zexion over if had not briskly stepped back.

“Crap I forgot! The boss is gonna turn me into a dusk for real this time!”

He was just summoning the black-violet vortex, taking a foot already into the black, when he paused, turning to give Zexion a queer look, “Wait, won’t you be late too?” 

At that Zexion’s irked expression contorted into an impish smirk, and he pulled a folded piece of paper from his sleeve, bending it between his gloved fingers, almost like a affectionate sleight of hand the way Luxord did with cards, and pushed it into Demyx’s hand, “Read this when you get to the meeting.”

“Huh?” he took the note, baffled. “What is it?”

A shadow of wickedness came into Zexion’s eyes, “My specialty. Now go.” he urged.

“Uh, okay?” and he let the ooze of black consume his body from the lounge into his designated seat in the meeting room, where, to his surprise he was the last to arrive. Zexion sat in his designated “VI” chair, legs crossed, attention trained on the superior, having been there already for some time. 

“Late again, Number Nine.” Came Saix from his right, with a frigid golden glare.

Demyx fidgeted in the form of a shrug, “Sorry.”

Xemnas gazed around the circular formation of Organization members, all thirteen seats filled out, and nodded slowly, “Now, let us begin.” 

After a few minutes into mission reports, Demyx had already tuned out, the slow thunder cadence of Xemnas’s speech made good background noise that, when not directed at you became surprisingly tranquilizing. He looked around, needing some visual distraction to save him from the onset of boredom that would undoubtedly put him to sleep. Again. Mid-meeting. He didn’t want to add anymore fuel to Larxene’s taunting or worse, a bigger workload added to his already under-fulfilled missions from moon man.

His careless gaze found Zexion’s.

Who, despite all body posture indicating his attention on the current speaker, chin in his hand and head turned towards Xaldin (who was going on about some sort of plan involving a rose or something?), his calm, half lidded eyes were set on the musician’s seat below him. Almost imperceptibly, he let the arm lying across his thigh slide to his pocket and patted it lightly while holding Demyx’s gaze. Looking down at his own pocket, Demyx stuck his hand in it to find the piece of folded paper he had thoughtlessly shoved in only moments ago. As carefully and quietly as possible, he removed the square of paper from his pocket and unfolded it with one hand while trying to seem focused on the current topic passing around the circle. 

It was just like passing notes in school with his friends. He never had paid much attention to writing or arithmetic or history, only the music classes had kept his attention. They were the only classes he missed on days when he couldn’t make it out of bed, before he had to quit going to school all together.

Demyx glanced down to find the paper blank.

Turning it over, there was still nothing. Just creases on blank, white paper.

He nearly pissed himself when the piece of paper fluttered up with a toxic green glow and a puff of slate grey smoke surrounded him, causing him to let out a yelp.

And the smoke faded and there was Zexion sitting astride his lap.

Heads immediately turned to Demyx, some faces annoyed, some attempting to swallow cruel snickers, some with smiles at his expense.

“Is there a problem?” The superior asked with his monotonous, intimidating tone.

Demyx looked from the Zexion in his lap up to the Zexion in his chair, who only seemed mildly interested in Demyx’s outburst, then around at the rest of the members and finally back to Xemnas who sat expectantly waiting on an explanation.

His mouth hung open stupidly as he raked his brain for some fitting answer for the odd scene before his eyes.

“You are the only one who can see me.” The Zexion on his lap explained, as though it were obvious.

“Well?” The single word from Saix’s mouth was biting and short.

“Ah…um well…”

“Speak up, kiddo.” Xigbar’s rusty voice demanded with that constant half-joking ring to it.

“T-that is…no?”

“Good. Keep it that way.” And with that Xemnas turned and nodded to Luxord who continued where he had been cut off about explaining a cursed chest of doubloons. 

Man they were going to send him on a suicide mission or something one day just to get rid of him.

Demyx pushed himself as flat against the back of his chair away from Zexion as he could and summoned his best ‘what the fuck’ expression.

With a dark chuckle, the Zexion in front of him placed his hands on Demyx’s chest and ran them up to his shoulders, sending a delightful shiver through Demyx’s body and a not entirely unpleasant drop in his stomach as the schemer began to play with strands of sun soaked hair that brushed his neck, curling them around gloved but dexterous fingers.

Demyx praying silently to any gods that would listen to a Nobody that he wouldn’t get a boner during a freaking meeting. 

In the lowest possible mumble, teeth clenched so as not to move his mouth too noticeably, Demyx asked, “Why can’t anyone see you?”

Zexion leaned forward to with breath like a warm breeze against his ear, “The Zexion you see before you is an illusion. My real form is sitting above you.”

At that Demyx turned his eyes to the real Zexion who, though not looking at him at all now, had the slightest smirk played across his lips.

“I’m not real.” The illusion Zexion added as he rolled his hips against Demyx.

Demyx swallowed a groan, “Well it feels fucking real!” he whisper shouted.

Marluxia, who sat to his immediate left at nearly the same height looked over at Demyx suspiciously, one elegant eyebrow raised. Demyx smiled at him sheepishly and lifted his shoulders.

Zexion had leaned away and now Demyx faced a wiry smile, “Oh it should. As I told you, it’s my specialty. Illusions.” He took the lower zipper of Demyx’s cloak, which was awfully close to some sensitive equipment, between his fingers, sliding his fingers up the path of the zipper with the same engrossed intensity he used when moving a finger across a sentence while reading something significant.

It was pretty fucked up what Zexion was doing, he knew, trying to give him a hard on in a very public setting, where he was completely vulnerable to any ministrations from the schemer, but he didn’t necessarily want it to stop, no he wanted to press Zexion’s hips against his, illusion or not and stroke those places that made the schemer sound breathless, that made him sweat and burn like he did in the dark of a bedroom.

Turn him back into the hopelessly needy Zexion that only he saw.

The one that didn’t guard his expressions or measure his words.

Illusion fingers moved on, skittering up his torso once more to the back of his neck and fully into his hair, and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentleness of the touch, but he let out a gasp when the Illusion Zexion suddenly clenched hair into a fist and jerked Demyx’s head to the side to run his tongue up the curve of his ear, Demyx’s own hands automatically came up to the thin waist before him to drive the illusion closer, but his hand was pushed back down to the illusion’s thigh.

At the combined odd sound and movement a couple of heads turned to him, and Demyx put an elbow on the armrest of his chair and covered his mouth to keep from making any more noises, as Illusion Zexion began to trail leisurely kisses down his neck.

Demyx restrained himself from shoving his whole leather clad fist into his mouth when kisses turned to nips, and hoping gravity would keep him stable in seat as nips became sucking.

Yup there it was, he was definitely hard now.

And this false Zexion was smiling devilishly when he leaned away to examine Demyx’s state of distress, an expression Demyx only let himself peek at, as much as this emerging, sexually electric side of Zexion scared the shit out of him, he was hot hot hot for it.

The second time Zexion came to his bed, after weeks of the cold shoulder and avoidance on the schemer’s part, Demyx had been half asleep, dreaming of petals on gentle waves, when urgent kisses woke him. He had put up no resistance. Then kisses turned to touches which turned to clothing peeling away which turned to something more than a memory beating in his chest as Zexion’s arms tightened around his neck and pulled at his hair.

“You smell nice.” He had said after , exhausted with only few words left in his lungs.

Zexion smelled like freshly laundered clothes, with a sleight musk, like rain dampened roses, like lilies, like flowerbed soil. A soft, sad floral note that stuck to his skin once his clean, orderly appearance had been stripped away.

He had been allowed a smile then in the moonlight, free of the accompanying scorn that masked that true delicate nature of his lips, the usual hardness in his eyes relented to softness.

And he felt it in his chest again, and the next time, and the time after, though he never brought it up again to Zexion.

Zexion: a tightly wound secret, a haughty shadow in public.

Demyx noticed him there, always on the edge of the conversation, on the brim of the scene. When their eyes met around the other organization members, Zexion held his gaze for the appropriate amount of time, nothing more or less, not significant or suspicious.

Though he had been warned by threat of painful death not to flirt or touch or even look at him too long in public, behind corners, closed doors, and darkened rooms it was soft touches, breath on lips, fingertips in hair.

And always, always sex with the lights off.

This now? What was this?

An experiment at his expense? With no risk to Zexion himself, just the way Zexion had explained his tactic in fights.

As the illusion ran gloved knuckles over his cheek, rolling his hips, whispering what _exactly_ he wanted Demyx to do when this eternity long meeting was over. He was going to die, he was going to burst into flames before it was finished, his uncomfortable erection becoming progressively more problematic as he withheld a number of embarrassing sounds that threatened to give his predicament away.

Finally, _finally_ with a nod from the superior and a final few words that Demyx hadn’t the concentration to hold onto, the meeting was adjourned and in twos and threes the other members dissipated from their seats, just as the illusion Zexion was extinguished from non-existence, Demyx looked up at the real Zexion, catching the crack in his demeanor, the agonized slip in his features, teeth chewing at his bottom lip, before he too was gone.

 

 


	6. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He found himself fantasizing about what a date might actually be like with Myde, under no looming threat of being Dusk-ified if found with linked hands in daylight or moonlight. Found himself thinking about Myde’s hands, on his hips, his loud mouth and his lips, on his skin again, the way he laughed a little between kisses. So full of these giddy, self-indulgent things he hadn’t realized he was mindlessly mixing the very wrong chemicals together and had would have caused a slightly problematic explosion if Evan had not snatched the vial away from him and kicked him out of the lab for the rest of the day until he got his lumbering, ignorant head out of his rear end and back into proper order advantageous to the world of science. In Evan’s words.

Demyx had known things about Ienzo that bled through to Myde.

Demyx knew things Zexion wouldn’t have admitted he liked. Hair pulling and pressed aster flowers, hip bones and the root-like pattern of veins under the delicate dermal layer of wrists, poetry at 2 am, strawberries, and music--soft and sweet or sick and angry, classical, jazz, alternative, and even rock music. Just about anything Demyx played. Like his reading material, just about any genre would do. 

Most of all, he liked those still moments between sex and when he pulled his clothes back, cloaking himself in the game of pretending there had been nothing in those moments. When he would let himself be held, let Demyx ask him frivolous questions, let Demyx hum wordless melodies against his skin as he breathed his sensed back in. Telling himself he would move soon, would leave soon, that he was only exhausted from the exertion and Demyx’s long warm arms were not comfortable and he was not smiling under sweat damp hair. Telling Demyx what a nuisance Marluxia was, what a fool Vexen could be, what a delusional miscreant Axel was. Little things, not enough to reveal any inner workings of the organization, not that Demyx would be able to process them if he did, but enough to reveal his internal monologue throughout the days when he found himself very much alone and separate from this accumulation of nothing.

Demyx knew how to keep him there longer by nuzzling his ear, by laying lazy kisses down his neck and making gentle circles with practiced fingers over his bare hips.

What Demyx didn’t know about was Saix’s golden watch. Xigbar’s knowing smirks.

An ever so sleight turn of Xemnas’s head in the musician’s direction when he passed in the hallway, following the line of Zexion’s gaze to him.

He hadn’t been careful enough, hadn’t been cold enough. Had found himself as a marionette without seeing the strings.  

The relationship had gotten to be a dangerous ploy to keep up, and he should have shut it down and saved himself from what he had denied was heartache.

Well, now he knew it was heartache.

Knew it every time Myde flashed a lethargic grin, every time he crept into Ienzo’s study, every time they met in a hallway, and every time he made an excuse that he was simply too busy to spend time lollygagging around town with him at a music show, or a coffee shop, or a bookstore.

He found himself fantasizing about what a date might actually be like with Myde, under no looming threat of being Dusk-ified if found with linked hands in daylight or moonlight. Found himself thinking about Myde’s hands, on his hips, his loud mouth and his lips, on his skin again, the way he laughed a little between kisses. So full of these giddy, self-indulgent things he hadn’t realized he was mindlessly mixing the very wrong chemicals together and had would have caused a slightly problematic explosion if Evan had not snatched the vial away from him and kicked him out of the lab for the rest of the day until he got his _lumbering, ignorant head out of his rear end and back into proper order advantageous to the world of science._ In Evan’s words.

So here he was, clearing his head with a dismal stroll though the gardens.

A few chords and softly sung words flitted through the air, nearly drowned out by the rushing of the fountain up ahead. The snippets of acoustic at discord with the zen of flowing water and tweeting birds overhead woke Ienzo from his storm cloud thoughts.

He followed the sounds, past billows of violet hydrangeas, a litany of baby blue forget-me-nots, and through an arched frame of the wall separating the garden sectors, vine creeping up the stone.

The flora of Radiant Garden was regaining its former impressive state after the irrigation system was reconstructed; the Restoration Committee had no qualms for that particular proposal and had given him the grants for the project almost immediately. Most of his personal projects had been sidelined for the demand in redesigning the city. He hadn’t thought he would miss the gardens so much, but seeing them in their state of distress and non-existence upon return to his former self, he found an unearthed loved for the calming sights of his childhood he’d let be destroyed by his obsessive search for the truth of the heart.

Ienzo paused by the blooming pastel delphinium that framed the entrance to watch the familiar form that sat on the lush, newly laid grass before the massive structure of the fountain.

“… _And you, you don’t know that when flowers wilt I_ – no that’s not right, hm.”

Face screwed up in concentration, Demyx scratched a pen worriedly over notepad paper and then stuck the pen behind his ear and began thrumming at the guitar in his lap once more.

“ _And you, you don’t know that spring is near, I feel it in my veins, I feel it here.”_

He nodded, satisfied, plucked the pen from behind his ear once more and scribbled down a couple words before stringing a few experimental notes together on the guitar, and then repeating them more confidently but with a slower tempo towards the end.

“ _Don’t you know, you don’t know there’s a secret in me I’ve got to tell.“_

Oh those lyrics are horrible. The melody was pleasant but Myde’s writing abilities needed some work, he should devise a list of recommended work of poets to improve his lines.

“ _Baby it’s been a long time comin’ it’s been a long time I’ve been watchin’ you look away.”_

Oh no. Oh no, that couldn’t be—the song could be about—about him? 

“ _I’ve been tryin’ to tell you,_ ”

Mouth dry, fingers digging, unconsciously at the violet cravat around his neck, the words grounded him there in that spot, unable to act or run.

“ _Baby I lo_ -“

Not that. Anything but that he absolutely could not hear that, couldn’t bear to know it was true. 

“Myde!”

Demyx jolted at the sound, his singing voice drying up and he stuttered back into his talking voice, “I-Ienzo hey!” he emitted a fake, nervous laugh. 

Immediately he regretted the decision to make his presence known.

He should have walked away, should have run away, palms smashed to his ears.

“What-“ he cleared his throat to repress the weak, higher pitched, fearful excitement that came bubbling up his throat. “What are you doing out here?”

He approached slowly, pressing the thick paperback novel he’d brought to his side, his free hand clenching and unclenching nervously. “Not that it’s my business what you choose to do with your free time of course.”

He was horrid at small talk.

Give a lecture on atomic particles? Sure. List off the lineage of Radiant Garden royalty and their achievements from the first recorded to present? Easy. Explain how to construct a gummi ship engine? Of course.

Exchange pleasantries with the man he used to fornicate with as a Nobody? Not his forte.

“Um, y’know doing my thing.” A primrose blush on his cheeks, Demyx hastily shut the notebook set beside his crossed legs in the grass. It was a simple spiral bound notebook, a solid, flat blue cover with badly drawn doodles in black marker of flowers, fish, and a stick man astride an oval over swirls, which he assumed were waves.

Also a penis. 

Ienzo bit back a humored smile at the immaturity he should otherwise find appalling in a man breaching his mid-twenties.

“What about you?”

“Taking an…intermission from work.” He lifted the book to indicate his point.   No need to explain his short-term banishment.

“Isn’t reading work?”

Ienzo couldn’t not contain the rolling of his eyes or the exasperated noise that left him at Myde’s ever-apparent lack of enthusiasm for higher knowledge. 

“Oh!” Myde smiled, “Yeah you said you used to come read over here. It’s a nice place.” He guided his guitar back into its case, zipping it up and snatching up the notebook from the ground as he stood.

“I guess I’ll get going then.”

And he turned away, just like that, he was going to leave.

 _Good._  

Ienzo’s hand rose of its own deceptive volition to hold Myde in that moment by his elbow, “You…you don’t have to go.” 

Daylight, breaking. Buds of plumeria springing into bloom.

Is what his stupid, foolishly hopeful smile looked like.

 

***

 

Ienzo extracted the lid from his recyclable paper-plastic cup and blew gently on the surface of the tea, causing ripples in the amber liquid. Trying not to notice that Myde was eying him as he did so.

“It’s too hot.” He didn’t know what else to say, the sentence barely audible over the gushing, iridescent waterfall behind them. Only stupid things came out of his mouth with Myde in close proximity, the low IQ was probably infectious.

What was this? A date? No not that, simply acquaintances catching up in an isolated part of the city, just outside the town at the entrance garden. Few ever came out here, and it was close to the café they’d stopped at in the shopping district, the one Myde had recommended that Ienzo had no clue even existed, it had popped up recently and was surprisingly busy, apparently a hit among the masses. He usually shied away from bustling, plebian infested settings so he had suggested a short walk to the garden.

And now they were alone together, really alone.

“Sorry?” Myde took a sip of his cup and shrugged, “Mine’s fine, you wanna try it?”

Ienzo examined the cup dubiously, “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Of course, probably with-

“With whipped cream.”

He was _such_ a child, a predictable child.

Ienzo’s lip quirked into a small smile and he turned away, “No thanks, I dislike sweet things.”

Except Myde. The outlier. The variant.

Myde laughed lightly and took another sip of his diabetes drink, then stared out over the waterline beyond the main gates. The stretch of lake that surrounded Radiant Garden on all three sides glistened pastel in the afternoon light, glassy hues of lilac and the soft orange of coral peony.

Ienzo bit his lip as the silence dragged on, not one to be perturbed with them usually, but a lack of words coming out of Myde’s mouth was unsettling. 

“What did you do? Before you turned into a Nobody? Or now I suppose, well not at the moment, since before you came to Radiant Garden.”

He was babbling, talking in circles. Unintelligent circles. He had never asked Myde about his life. Always avoided anything other than physical contact with him in the past. On their tour of Radiant Garden he had spent most of the time spewing off historical facts.

Myde was looking at him now, fondly. “I was a swimmer. Did a lot of surfing, too.”

Well that accounted for the water affinity, and he was certainly built for it. 

“I mean I wanted to make it big as a rock star, but never have my big break.” He flashed a smile. “The place I’m from, man the water was so clear, you could see miles in it, all the little fish, and the waves that came in could topple you over. My cousin nearly drowned himself, he had a blow out mid barrel on this monster wave.” Myde shook his head, grinning. “Good times out there.”

Ienzo failed to see how a near death experience counted as a good time.

“Have you ever been to the ocean?”

“Yes. Once. With my parents. I don’t remember much of it, I was very young.”

“Well we oughta go sometime. Y’know once your work dies down.” 

Ienzo brought the tea to his lips and took a sip, making a noncommittal noise into the cup. The work would never die down, but he didn’t feel up to shattering Myde’s proposal just yet.  

“Ienzo.” 

The laid back tone to his voice subsided, replaced with the hardened, dismal voice of someone unknown.

The tide was drawing back.

He set the cup down carefully, on the smooth marble surface of the fountain ledge they sat on. Placing it to his left--away from Myde so the other wouldn’t see his hands shake, the way his tea sloshed about, how nervous he was, stomach turning, lungs stiff. No way to warp away into the darkness anymore to escape a conversation. 

He could always physically run (not quickly and not attractively) away from his issues but the cost of doing so was high—his pride.

So he folded his hands over the book in his lap.

“Yes?”

“I’ve uh…I think I have to tell you something.”

Ienzo stared down at his polished shoes and beyond them, a blurry reflection of his face peeking back from the surface of the pearl-like bricks nestled neatly in diamond patterns around the fountain and along the pathway between patches of flowers. 

“I-I don’t know if you feel the same as back then, you were so mean. But things are different now, y’know? And I thought, it was stupid but I really thought we could-we would…but now…”

Please don’t say that, anything but that. He wanted it too much.

“Ienzo, will you look at me please?”

The wave was coming in. He could see it in the distance in Myde’s watery eyes. Could see the wreckage to come.

It _hurt_.

He had seen the way these things worked out, the way they drowned people. He’d watched Lea and Axel alike be puppeteer by the person he loved. Watched Ansem the Wise destroyed by his beloved students, done it himself just to further his research. His parents had died for it. For him. When they had found out the truth and tried to pull the plug on Xehanort’s secret work because it involved extermination on him.

There was a way, though. To keep them both afloat.

He stood abruptly, looking down on Myde and mustering every bit of the cold self he used to be. The one that lied effortlessly. The self that wasn’t him at all. 

“I’m done with this charade. Up until now I’ve only accommodated you out of politeness, but to make it clear: I do not have feelings for you. Not now, nor as a Nobody. You will leave Radiant Garden tomorrow morning, not at your leisure.”

Before he could gauge the flood he was turning, not quite running, but briskly walking away.

This is how he would always save himself, with pride and without anyone the wiser to the thick stone on his tongue, the dead weight in his chest.

Pulling the strings behind a curtain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a disgusting love for symbolism and metaphors, if you haven't noticed.


	7. Bottle It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A raised voice cut their attention to Demyx, “I don’t believe you, geezer!”
> 
> He slammed his drink down on the table, sloshing it out with the wild motion and stood up, tall body wavering against gravity. His face flushed and his words stretched a tad longer than they should have.
> 
> Xigbar followed to his feet immediately, his reaction speed unaffected by the countless shots consumed.

Roxas peeked out of the hallway, his golden head bobbing into sight of the other Organization members lounging about the table, withdrawing glass bottles and bright cans from paper sacks. A good portion of the organization had assembled in the lounge, only lacking Vexen, Saix and the Superior himself.

Even Zexion had congregated with the mass, although only on the edge of the scene, hoping to glean a trifle of information from alcohol slackened lips. He had originally declined Demyx’s offer to the get together, as he wasn’t usually considered one of the “fun” members of the organization who enjoyed a drink from time to time. In fact, Demyx was one of the few that weren’t wary of his hidden watchfulness.

“Come on in Roxas, it’s a party!” Demyx kicked his legs out from his seat, arms up like an ecstatic starfish, a bottle hanging perilously in his right hand.

Larxene rolled her eyes, “Shut up Demyx, it’s not a party.”

“Merely a gathering of coworkers for the sweet consumption of sin.” Marluxia expounded, giving his hair an unnecessary flip over the shoulder.

Zexion restrained himself from letting the sound of his internal disgust escape.

The thirteenth member moved forward into the room to get a better look, with a hooded figure hugging the space close behind him.

Axel patted the seat next to him on the stiff, chrome hued sofa, “Well come on in and join the fun.” He grinned. At this point he was practically their babysitter. Why he put the extra workload on himself, most claimed not to understand. Though a few, Zexion included, had an inkling.

“Since Saix isn’t here we can actually have some.” Larxene said, plucking a yellow and silver can for herself from one of the brown, paper bags on the table and popping it open.

“Can I try some?” Roxas inclined his head towards the dark liquid Axel was about to bring to his lips.

The redhead looked at the glass doubtfully, then back up at Roxas who had seated himself where directed, a petite black figure following suit, “Uh, I’m not sure you could handle any of this.”

“You’ll be as on fire as him if you drink that.” Xigbar laughed in that rusty bark sort of way that set something in Zexion on edge and poured himself a shot glass of an equally strong drink and threw it back.

“Here Roxas, you can have some of mine. Axel only drinks hard liquor.” Demyx handed Roxas and Xion each a glass bottle of the pink, fruity smelling alcohol he was consuming. Zexion had a glass of dry white wine for himself and wondered, though he didn’t usually prefer sugary things, how it would taste on Demyx’s lips.

“Of course you’ll owe me for it, like helping me out with a couple of mission reports or-ow!”

Xigbar had brought his hand against the back of Demyx’s head, “As if! Do your own damn mission reports, slacker!”

Demyx shrugged, “It was worth a try.”

Lexaeus and Zexion watched as drinks were passed. He tried to catch the snippets of low words between Marluxia and Larxene over the crescendo of the conversation volume. Aware of the way Axel slid his long arm along the sofa behind Roxas as he leaned back, seemingly directing his attention to Luxord’s card trick. The way Xigbar filled Demyx’s hand with a new, full bottle once he had emptied it of sweet, dangerous pink liquid.

If not for Lexaeus beside him at the wall a short distance from the flock of libation consuming regulars he would certainly seem the out of place observer, but Lexaeus was helpful that way with his silent presence.

“Zexion.”

It was the first Lexaeus had spoken the whole night outside of nods and grunts, and it rustled him from the unfolding events, if the boulder of a Nobody had something to say it was usually important. Unlike the careless words that spilled from the mouths of the rest of his coworkers.

“Yes?” Their voices were quite, low and unobtrusive.

“I thought you might like to know, Saix mentioned a critical mission coming up soon. He hinted you may be assigned there.”

Zexion nodded, bringing a hand to his chin, “Yes, I know of it. The prospect of Castle Oblivion’s hidden value is promising. If I am assigned, make sure you are as well.”

If he did well there, he might soon take a place of higher leverage in the organization. Lexaeus was would be a dependable game piece.

Lexaeus nodded solemnly, “I’ll support you in the endeavor.”

A raised voice cut their attention to Demyx, “I don’t believe you, geezer!”

He slammed his drink down on the table, sloshing it out with the wild motion and stood up, tall body wavering against gravity. His face flushed and his words stretched a tad longer than they should have.

Xigbar followed to his feet immediately, his reaction speed unaffected by the countless shots consumed.

Zexion had missed the prior exchange, and now narrowed his eyes at the scene. Xigbar was by far one of the most untrustworthy members in the organization, seemingly loyal to their goals but like an attack dog without a leash, keenly aware of his station. He was unpredictable and dropped valuable information from time to time as if just to gauge Zexion’s reaction.

“Who’re you callin’ a geezer? You wanna try me kiddo?” he closed into Demyx’s personal space quickly—agility being his forte—taking the blonde by surprise, he seemed to grow smaller under the sinister one-eyed gaze Xigbar bore down on him.

He grinned naively, in spite of Xigbar’s bark “Prove it.”

There was a high-strung atmosphere of silence, the entire group had ceased their individual conversations and were now sitting in suspended expectation of the turn of events, when Xigbar grabbed Demyx’s waist, bringing their bodies flush together, and took hold of the back of the musician’s neck, brining their lips almost violently together, not giving Demyx even a breath to prepare for the tongue pushed into his mouth.

Zexion’s first impulse was to move forward and shove the two apart, but a hand on his shoulder kept him grounded and sensible, instead he took in the collective reaction of the group, analyzing himself into calm.

Situation: inappropriate.

Roxas: Wide eyed, hand over his mouth, the figure next to him in mild shock.

Axel: Already bent over in silent laughter.

Maluxia and Larxene: Darkly humored.

Luxord: Mild interest, already back at his card game with Xaldin.

Xaldin: Attempting to ignore the display entirely.

A sensation: Strangely akin to rage, more potent than the memory of a feeling.

He looked down at his glass, the closest thing to him and the farthest thing from the kissing that riled his insides. He breathed steadily, with as little suspicion as he could, reigning in the torrent of unwanted fire that had ignited.

 

***

 

When Xigbar pulled his face from Demyx, the musician followed his lips, dazed and in a state of hazy arousal. His co-worker let out a harsh laugh and plumped back down into his seat with an air of victory.  

Nearly stumbling backwards, Demyx fell back into his own chair and slid down it’s cushiony interior, covering his face with his hands, quickly reddening as Axel and Larxene burst into unsolicited laughter and the rest of those around the table followed with a range of chuckles to amused smiles at the drama that had unfolded before their eyes at the expense of their ninth member.

All except Zexion. Who stood still in the background, eyes turned away from both Xigbar and Demyx, gaze instead focusing on his barely touched, translucent glass of wine. Seemingly unaware of the sea foam gaze that peeked out through gloved fingers in search of the illusionist’s reaction.

Which was disinterested. Laced with contempt.

The usual.

Demyx bit his lip behind his hands as an azure gaze strayed to him finally, under silver tinted bangs. And that cool flicker felt to him like an acute wound.

“Watcha hidin’ for kiddo?” Xigbar threw at him after taking another shot.

The nocturne threw an arm across his face, “I’m embarrassed you jerk! You’re the worst!”

Axel snorted.

Marluxia gave a posh utterance of disbelieve.

Xigbar shook his head, golden eyes bright, “As if! Can’t be embarrassed if you don’t have a heart.”

 

***

 

As the night dwindled on, the conversations began to compartmentalize and deteriorate as the looming prospect of morning missions with hangovers became heavy on their minds.  

Roxas—drowsy from his virgin alcohol intake—slumped against Axel, snug in the crux between Axel’s outstretched arm and his chest. Xion had long ago nodded off against the arm of the couch.

“Alright I think it’s time you two call it a night.”

Roxas rubbed his eyes as Axel moved to scoop Xion carefully from the couch, but as he reached for her, the blonde slung his arms around Axel’s shoulders.

“Nooo carry me!” he begged, voice thick with alcohol induced lethargy, eyes fluttering shut as he let his head fall between Axel’s shoulder blades. Zexion watched Axel’s expression alter into degrees of heightening distress as he internally debated who he should carry and how. After a stressful few seconds, Lexaeus moved, quietly taking Xion in his arms and nodding at Axel.

“Alright sunshine, climb aboard.” Axel said, maneuvering himself so he could carry Roxas piggyback style. The boy nudged himself up so his face meshed against Axel’s porcupine hair and let his arms wrap loosely about the man’s neck as Axel secured his legs above his own hips. “Guess I’m off to bed too after I drop this lightweight off.”

“I’ll be taking my leave as well.” Marluxia informed the group, rising royally from his seat.

Larxene moved to follow, “Yeah, a hangover in Agrabah would be a pain.”

“Demyx,” Xigbar grinned, “Wanna bang?”

Demyx chocked mid swallow and spluttered out what was in his mouth, pounding a fist against his chest as he coughed.

_Don’t do it._

Finally able to breathe, he looked up at Xigbar, bewildered, attempting to come up with some weak excuse.

“Aw I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” Xigbar threw his head back and slammed a last shot down his throat before standing, “Sweet dreams kiddies.”

Which now only left Zexion and Demyx.

Avoiding Demyx’s eyes, Zexion stood and began to take his leave, but Demyx quickly caught up to him, “Hey um…you’re not upset are you? About that kiss?”

Zexion stopped, but did not turn to look at the other. At least Demyx had the decency to whisper this sensitive question, although he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Zexion?” he reached a hand out to lay gently on the shoulder of his…his whatever it was they were.

But just as his fingers brushed Zexion’s cloak he pulled away from the touch and finally turned to look at Demyx, a mean, wicked smile pasted on his lips, “Don’t be stupid. Kiss whomever you want. It’s none of my concern.”

Demyx’s lips jutted out in a frown, those green eyes confused and misting as he tore them from Zexion. After a moment though he looked back and took a breath, as if having made a decision, then he leaned down to kiss Zexion, who he stepped back.

Zexion tossed a look over his shoulder, making sure no one had seen the attempt, “Not tonight.” Zexion whispered before turning to walk away.

Demyx followed, “I thought you weren’t angry? You don’t want to do it?”

The combination of the alcohol and the unintended kiss had him horny.

Zexion continued walking, “No, not with you.” Just before he turned the corridor, he flashed the musician a mischievous and cruel intended smirk.

 

***

 

Axel removed Roxas’s boots and pulled the sheet up to his shoulders as the boy mumbled his thanks and then was out like a light.

For a moment, Axel gazed at the boy’s soft, sleeping face in the warm white light of the moon. He set a hand against the pillow and leaned down close, bringing his senses near enough to smell the strawberry alcohol on the boy’s breath, almost enough to taste it, but he hesitated and then stood back up, and turned away without looking back.  

A watchful shadow lingered in the darkened corner of the room, slipping away unnoticed into a deeper shroud.

 

***

 

In front of the door to his own room, Roxas was waiting, back slumped against the wall, he looked up when Axel approached, eyes bright.

“What, Roxas when did you-“

And the boy propelled himself from the door and onto Axel to plant a dizzying kiss on his lips.

He didn’t react; didn’t pull away or kiss back. In fact Axel had gone absolutely rigid. When Roxas withdrew, he frowned up at the redhead, “Don’t you want me, Axel?”

Axel’s smile was acidic, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Zexion?”

The wounded, innocent façade contorted into a wicked expression, unnervingly un-Roxas like. “Does it really matter?”

He ran his hands up Axel’s chest, stopping to fiddle with the zipper without breaking eye contact, “It’s a perfect copy I assure you. Every detail-“

A gloved hand came up to wrap around his throat with just enough pressure, there was a flicker of fear in false blue eyes that settled into fiendish once more as Axel leaned down, his lips near brushing the ear of the Roxas disguised Zexion.

“You better be damn good at pretending.” His hand tightened just the slightest, but still allowed for the false Roxas to speak.

“The best.”

 

***

 

Demyx with hands in pockets lollygagged his way back to his room, mumbling to himself.

“Says he doesn’t have a heart, but he’s totally mad at me. Stupid Xiggy. Fuck him! I mean not fuck him, I mean I guess I would’a fucked him, but not now, not when I…when Zexion…”

Zexion’s body and his words never did quite sync. He always kept to the edges of the scene, not quite noticeable. His melodies were shifting, becoming darker, quieter. His ambient becoming harsh.

“You better be damn good at pretending.”

“The best.”

Voices drifted down the hallway, and Demyx peered around the turn of the corridor that led to the grouping of rooms VII through X to find Axel and…Zexion?

As if something out of a nightmare, he watched Axel slam Zexion against the door to his room by the throat and kiss him hard. Demyx could only stare, dumbfounded and unnoticed by the two wrapped up in an almost violent make out session.

But as Axel’s lips descended his throat, Zexion’s gaze slid to the end of the hallway, lingering on Demyx and the schemer smiled, slow and precise.


End file.
